


“How Unreasonably in Love I Am with Everything You Do”

by queenhomeslice



Series: The Client [3]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Chubby Reader, Curvy Reader, F/M, Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, fat reader, geralt is bad at feelings but he's trying y'all, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:41:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24408979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: Geralt comes back a third time.(title from The Amazing Devil’s song "Fair")
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Series: The Client [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1753774
Comments: 18
Kudos: 185
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette





	“How Unreasonably in Love I Am with Everything You Do”

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All Witcher fiction belongs to Andrzej Sapkowski; The Witcher TV series belongs to Netflix; The Witcher video game rights belong to CD Projekt/CD Projekt RED. I do not own the rights to any copyrighted material; I am not affiliated with any production companies of The Witcher games, tv shows, books, or other media; and I am not making money from this.  
> _______
> 
> I SWEAR, I can't leave this concept alone. Here, have some happy ending, I guess.

“Different, to see you with your clothes on.” 

You turn your head around so fast you nearly get whiplash. Geralt of Rivia is standing there, holding the reins on his big, beautiful horse. His white hair is pulled back from around his face—it’s intricately braided, with dying dandelions scattered throughout. 

You admire his clean-shaven face as he gazes at you softly. “Geralt,” you whisper, as if you’re seeing a ghost. “You’re back.” 

“Hm.” Geralt pats his horse and leads it towards the dried log where you’re seated by the bay. He drops the reins and sits close to you on the dead tree, regarding the bundled-up fishing net and basket of flopping fish just a few steps away. “Fishing?” He lifts an eyebrow and nods towards the net and basket of fish. 

You adjust your bird’s egg-blue dress around your ankles, the chill of the early morning sharp against your skin. “For the me and the other girls,” you explain. “Madame said she didn’t have enough to go to the butcher’s this week. So I volunteered to fish. Mostly because the other girls are too prissy to do this themselves.” Shrugging, you catch Geralt’s gaze. “We still haven’t fully recovered from when the ghouls put a damper on the local economy. And another girl left last week—we're down to six of us.” 

Geralt clicks his tongue and hums, but says nothing. 

It’s all right, though—you're more than content to just sit next to him. Instinctively, as if the witcher has his own personal pull of gravity, you lean against him, putting your head on his shoulder. To your surprise, Geralt lifts his arm and puts around your shoulder, drawing you closer to himself. 

“I like your hair,” you say quietly. 

Geralt chuckles. “Jaskier’s doing, of course.” 

“Where is he?” 

“Was invited to some court or other for a few weeks to play for a noble’s son’s wedding. He tried to convince me to stay, of course—and I usually do.” Geralt pauses, the rest of the story suspended in the cold morning air. 

“But,” you say tentatively, raising your head to look at his handsome profile. 

Geralt sighs as though he’s come to an uncomfortable revelation. “I...came for you. Even though I don’t have the coin.” He turns to face you, honey-golden eyes on the verge of tears. 

“Oh,” you breathe, like you’ve had the air knocked from your lungs. “I...Geralt...” 

The witcher shakes his head. “I can’t stay away. I don’t know why. I’m not supposed to have attachments like this. Everyone who’s ever tried to get close to me gets hurt.” 

“Jaskier’s not hurt.” 

“Not yet. And Jaskier’s a fool.” 

“I’m a fool, too.” 

Geralt smiles bitterly. “As am I. What a merry band of fools we are.” He leans in to kiss you. 

You feel yourself blush, nerves almost instantly igniting, as if the witcher has cast his fire spell on every cell in your body. He groans softly into the kiss, deepening it, lifting a large gloved hand to settle on the back of your neck. 

“Hair,” he murmurs as he pulls away. “It’s grown. Though, not so nearly as long as when we first met.” 

You giggle and tuck your head against his neck, lips grazing the sliver of skin above his armor. “It’s been another three months, Geralt. I know it’s probably not a lot of time for you, but...” 

“Sorry,” Geralt says softly, twirling your shoulder-length hair in his fingers. “Uh.” He clears his throat, normally-slow heartrate speeding up just a fraction. “Would you...” 

“Yes,” you reply, not even bothering to let him finish. You lift your head and gaze into his eyes. “Whatever it is, whatever you need, I’ll do it.” 

Geralt smiles and shakes his head. “Damn humans, always rushing into shit before you know what’s what.” 

“If it’s for you, I don’t care what it is.” 

Geralt hums affectionately. He tilts his head back toward his horse. “Her name is Roach.” 

“Roach,” you say, looking at the mare, who’s nibbling at a nearly-bare patch of grass. “She’s beautiful.” 

“Yes,” says Geralt. 

“What were you going to say, before?” Though, you get the sense that Geralt telling you his horse’s name is a pretty big reveal. You have the feeling he’s leading up to something. 

“I, uh. Was wondering if you’d want to...winter with me. And Jaskier. At Kaer Morhen.” 

You stare at him, blinking in silence for several long seconds. “You want me to...to come with you? To...” 

“Kaer Morhen,” Geralt repeats. “The Witcher’s School of the Wolf. Where I was raised, trained. Me and my brothers.” 

“Do you go there every winter?” 

Geralt nods. “Jaskier’s been with me a couple of times, though he mostly prefers to stay at Oxenfurt. But I thought...it’d be nice for me...us, my brothers...to have some company.” 

You feel your cheeks heat up and you nod, slowly. “I’ve never known anywhere else. I’ve never traveled far, all I know is the Rosebud. I know, before, I had begged to accompany you, but...perhaps you were right to make me stay here.” You bite your lip and look down. “I love you, Geralt—but I don’t want to be a burden.” 

Geralt’s face twists into some sort of emotion at the _L_ word. “I want you to come with me. Whatever debt you have with your Madame, I’ll work to pay off. Then we can head north.” 

You laugh and shake your head. “I’ve paid Madame off already, years ago. I stayed at the Rosebud because I didn’t have anyone else—anything else.” 

“I’m not just asking you for sex, you know.” 

You nod. “Well even if you were, I don’t think I’d say no, anyway. My offer from before still stands, if you’re serious. I can cook, and sew. I will help you in any way I can.” 

“Can you ride a horse?” Geralt asks. 

“As it so happens, I can. I even have a horse, can you believe it?” 

“Good, that’s good,” says Geralt, voice suddenly tight. He looks defeated, as if words are getting the better of him. 

You place a hand on his forearm, and he visibly relaxes at the kind touch. “Geralt,” you say softly. “If you want me to come with you, I will. Right now.” 

“Yes,” Geralt whispers. “Please.” 

You nod and stand, gathering up the basket of fresh fish and your net. “I’ll be ready in a few hours. Where will you wait for me?” 

“The Whistling Arrow,” he says. It’s one of the smaller inns in town, and usually not as crowded—and therefore, it’s cheaper. “I have enough for one night. We’ll leave in the morning, go pull Jaskier from his foppish pursuits, and head to Kaer Morhen.” 

Geralt stands and takes your net and basket from you, along with Roach’s reins, and walks with you back to The Blooming Rosebud. 

“Will your brothers like me? You’re the only witcher I’ve ever met.” 

Geralt grins. “Oh, they’ll adore you. And Jaskier will be elated, you know. He wouldn’t stop talking about you.” 

You nod and take the basket of fish and the net. “Okay.” You stand up on your tiptoes to press another kiss to Geralt’s full lips. “I’m so happy, Geralt.” 

The witcher nods, bright yellow eyes all round with adoration. “Me too.” 

The next morning, you set out with Geralt of Rivia, riding your own brown and white spotted horse, Zofia, who’s loaded down with your meager possessions. You and Geralt talk and laugh until you’re forced to camp together in the forest. The sex is sweet and slow, and somehow that much more pure, now that you’re not being bought. _Geralt_ _came back to you of his own accord, and he’s taking you away_. That knowledge lodges itself deep in your heart, and is a grounding weight as you sleep on the rocky ground, curled up in the witcher’s arms. 


End file.
